


Unseated

by bettervillains



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/F, Holodecks/Holosuites, Horses, I've fallen in the Janeway pit and I can't get up, smutty smut smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-16 02:15:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8082763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bettervillains/pseuds/bettervillains
Summary: "Be a sport, Seven. Even the best riders are sometimes unseated." Seven took another step forward, and Janeway felt her back hit the wall. She grunted, rubbing the back of her head, so distracted by the sensation that she almost missed it when Seven replied:"I will test that theory."





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written under the express orders of @pigeonwhispers. 
> 
> I fell into the Voyager pit this weekend, friends. Chalk up another heap of gay feelings (JANEWAY HAS UST WITH EVERY WOMAN) for this kid. 
> 
> Also, holodeck autocorrects to homosexual in my phone. Seems appropriate. 
> 
> -maddoraptor out-

Out on the vast frontier, the sun beat down steadily on those unfortunate enough to be caught out in the mid-day blaze: two horses and their riders on a high hill, seeking shade under the gossamer curtain of an ancient maple’s canopy.

The shorter of the two riders, in a stetson, tipped the hat back and wiped at her brow with a handkerchief. The other rider tilted her head, as if examining, forming her words carelessly —

“I informed you, Captain, well in advance of our departure,” she stated, clearly, loudly, over the gentle breezes of the plains, “That the heat would be exponentially greater than your assumptions — ”

“Seven,” the captain murmured, “Hush.”

Seven turned her head, sharply, to examine the captain. The captain ignored the piercing gaze, kept her eyes focused on the fields before her. 

Seven had been eager to engage in more physical sport since their games of Velocity in the holodeck. Janeway presumed it was some blend of curiosity and envy that led to such an inclination, even if Seven wouldn’t admit to such… human fallacies. 

Her horse pawed the dirt, restlessly, beneath her. She closed her eyes, felt the pulse and breath of the beast between her thighs, the smooth leather of the reins between her fingertips, the crop tucked under her arm… it had been a long time since she’d felt at home, and her holonovels could only bring her so far out of the reality of a cold, metal ship full of responsibilities. 

She took a deep breath, inhaled the world around her — the dirt and leather, the faint scent of onion grass threaded across the plains, the horse so effortlessly supporting her weight. No, there was something about the closeness to another living thing, even one made out of holographic particles and half-forgotten dreams, something irreplaceable about breath and sweat and heat — 

She opened her eyes again, and tucked her handkerchief away.

“We have not moved in half an hour,” Seven continued, voice steady. “I fail to see how this excursion counts as physical activity, or indeed any form of exertion.” 

Janeway turned her head, meeting Seven’s furrowed brow. The sun glinted off her implant, an almost playful reminder of Seven’s speed, strength, stamina — Janeway quirked her brow, felt a smirk tug at her lips.

“Captain?”

Janeway gathered up her reins, settled into her saddle, and nodded down the hill to the barn they’d departed from an hour earlier.

“Have it your way,” she drawled, clicking her teeth. “Race you back.”

With that, Janeway kicked her heels, and her horse whinnied, taking off down the hill at a gallop. She heard, a half of a heartbeat behind her, the thunder of Seven in pursuit. 

The downhill path was an obstacle course of clods and roots and hardy vegetation. A river wound lazily around the base of the hill, and the dirt around it had long since turned to mud by the time they reached it. Janeway took a moment to glance over her shoulder — Seven was struggling to maintain control of her animal, shoulders stiff. Janeway leaned down, feeling the movement of her own horse, stroking the neck just below the mane —

“Steady, Nel, there you go,” she murmured, as they reached the banks of the river, and though she felt the slight hesitation in the horse’s gait she pushed her forward with a dig of her heels, a pat to the neck with her palm — the horse leaped, clearing the river with ease, landing on the other side in a spray of mud and stones. 

She turned her horse, triumphant, to see the exact moment when Seven’s horse stopped dead in its tracks, and Seven, unprepared for any situation in which an inferior life form objected to her command, hurtled headlong into the water. 

Seven spluttered, face the picture of undignified confusion, and Janeway's lips twisted as she tried, so desperately and so unsuccessfully, to stifle a laugh. She swung down, landing ankle deep in mud, reaching out into the water to pull Seven to her feet. 

Seven was glaring at the horse, who was shaking flecks of the splash from its mane. 

"Insubordination," Seven began, voice rising, "Childish disobedience, absolute —"

Janeway sighed, offering her the handkerchief from her pocket. Seven blinked, took it with a huff, and began to dry her face. Janeway took her arm.

"Let's just... walk the rest of the way, hm?"

A sharp nod from Seven, and they began the last dozen yards across the lawn to the stable. 

Inside, Seven seized a towel, and Janeway lifted a ladle of cold water to her lips. 

"I should have defeated you," Seven grumbled, low voice muffled until she lowered the towel to her arms, wiping her hands clean. "I hold an advantage of over 32.4 percent in any footrace with a less advanced species." 

Janeway raised a brow. Yes, offense. 

"We may be physically less advanced, but our instincts are sharp, and our connections —"

Seven frowned. "Connections?"

"You were treating your horse as a means to an end. A bearer, a vehicle, instead of a participant." 

"It was indeed. I was in command." 

Janeway sighed, thumbing the tension of her forehead.

"It's not about being in command, not exactly," she explained, "It's a... symbiotic relationship. There are fish on earth that clean the teeth of larger ones —" 

"Garra rufa." 

"Yes, exactly. The large fish don't bite. They know that without the garra rufa's tending, they'd be unable to hunt. Likewise, the doctor feeds on what it collects from the teeth of the larger fish. It's a partnership, based on instinct, on understanding." 

Seven stood quiet for a long moment, then turned and draped her towel over a low gate. When she turned back, her arms were crossed over her chest, the metallic streaks of implants down her Borg arm threading with the clean expanse of human skin on the other. The implants vanished under what Janeway had selected for them both to wear: breathable, cotton and flannel shirts, sturdy jeans, and the close fitting chaps that protected them, trailing down to the now muddy boots. 

Something gnawed, in the back of her mind, that Seven's long and slender body lended well to riding clothes. Too well. 

"You cleared the jump with ease, Captain."

Janeway nodded. "I knew Nel would hesitate. I expected it, gave her the encouragement she'd need in that moment." 

"I see." 

Janeway could almost see the circuitry tick above Seven's eye. She smiled, more than a little smug — it was satisfying to prove, as on the Velocity court, that humans could match so-called superior races, and exceed all expectation, all calculation —

"You are taking pleasure in my defeat."

Her voice was even lower than usual. Janeway laughed, then smiled, apologetic, as Seven's eyes narrowed...

But the damage was already done. Seven stalked across the hay strewn floor, and Janeway, not to be intimidated, stood her ground, looking up into the woman's piercing eyes. 

"Be a sport, Seven. Even the best riders are sometimes unseated." 

Seven took another step forward, and Janeway felt her back hit the wall. She grunted, rubbing the back of her head, so distracted by the sensation that she almost missed it when Seven replied:

"I will test that theory." 

Janeway blinked. Suddenly, with Seven almost pressed against her, cornered, she felt very small. It was not often that anyone could make the captain feel her own height, but now...

She twisted her head, looking for a way out — and froze as Seven's lips pressed expertly to her neck. 

"Seven," she warned, clearing her throat, "Seven of —" 

Seven swallowed the words with a kiss, too deep and dark to wander out of, the air around Janeway suddenly filled with the heady musk of sweat and soil — her head spun, hands weakly finding her shoulders, pressing her away. 

"I don't fraternize with my crew," Janeway argued, but her voice shook, and Seven only smirked. 

"Fraternize. From _frater_ , brother. Decidedly male. I..." Seven ran a slender finger down Janeway's cheek, jaw, throat. "...am decidedly not." 

Janeway swallowed, hard, as Seven's fingers trailed lower. 

"And you..." Seven's palm came to rest on her exposed collarbone, buttons long ago loosened in the heat, pressing against the thump of Janeway's pulse, "Are aroused." 

Janeway snorted an exhale through her nostrils, frowning. 

"Am not." 

But her cheeks were red, she could feel it, her stomach warm and more than just the slickness of sweat between her legs. The exertion of the ride had pumped endorphins through her body, and Seven, all leather and skin and steel, was so close, and it had been —

"Too long," Seven murmured, hand stroking her stomach, sending a fresh wave of heat boiling through her bloodstream, "Your self-imposed celibacy has proven a burden. I am offering you respite." 

Janeway's head tipped back against the wall, jaw tight. She could still feel Seven's kiss on her neck, on her lips, the taste of her sweat on her tongue — her heart pounded as she considered a logical approach, but her moral compass was on the other side of those holodeck doors, half an illusion away...

"Proceed," Janeway replied, softly, at last, and Seven swept forward to claim her lips again. 

It felt better than she could have imagined. And if she was being honest, she had imagined it — in the dead of night, stripped down to a shimmering nightgown, hair untied and loose around her shoulders, body clean and dry, comfortable, relaxed — never relaxed enough, but sometimes, indulgent after a particularly satisfying victory, she allowed fantasies beyond those they could replicate in the holodeck, allowed herself to slip her hand between her legs, her other hand in her hair, feigning a lover —

She couldn't remember exactly when that lover had begun to be Seven. 

A sharp bite on her lip brought her gasping back to reality, rolling against the hands pressing her firmly to the wall —

"You were distracted," Seven explained, then added with a curiously heated expression, "It will not happen again." 

Was that a prediction, or a command? Janeway shuddered. Either. Both. 

She felt the snaps of her chaps give way, the zipper of her jeans torn carelessly by a hand streaked with metal, and as Janeway began to re-evaluate whether or not this was a good idea, Seven's fingers found slick heat, delving —

Janeway groaned, arching, as Seven tsked. 

"Most humans require regular maintenance. You have been neglecting yourself." 

She twisted her fingers, exploring, and Janeway's fist pounded the wood paneling behind her, swearing that she could break through even a hologram at this point if, God, if she didn't —

"I suspect you were concerned with —"

"Seven," Janeway husked out, arms wrapping around her, pulling her close, hips rolling. "Hush."

If it bothered Seven at all, she made no point to mention it — not with words, anyway, but she took the opportunity to punctuate the moment with a thrust of two slender fingers, strong, rigid, curling instantly — Janeway let out an undignified shout, face burying in the taller woman's neck as Seven wasted no time, thrusting quickly, an almost mechanical rhythm that had Janeway's already aching legs quivering —

She slipped, slightly, feet unsure of how to find purchase on the muddied ground, body shaking from the sensations, and sucked in a sharp breath when Seven lifted her, effortless, holding her against the wall — it was almost unsettling, feeling untethered to the ground, but Seven's thumb found her clit, circling, drenched in arousal and sweat, and she didn't care, wrapping her legs, hips rolling, crying out as she thrust against her fingers, haughty, demanding, hungry —

When she came, it was a loud affair, Seven's teeth sinking into her neck as her throat tipped back like some moonlit beast, years of frustration screaming at the surface of her skin, at last drifting off into the dusty, falsified sunlight. She slumped forward, weightless, and Seven held her, pinned to the wall, fingers buried, her other hand stroking the back of her neck. 

Janeway struggled in a breath, then another, pushed at Seven's shoulders until she set her down, shuddering when the taller woman pulled her fingers free. 

"Sufficient?"

Janeway bit her cheek, considering what had started this whole thing ( _you are taking pleasure in my defeat_ ) but only cleared her throat, swallowed hard against the raw, coarse feeling in her throat —

"Computer, end program." 

Her voice was hoarse, but no less authoritative, and the computer chimed and complied. The world dissolved around them, the clothes dematerializing and leaving them, once again, in the daily colors of Starfleet officer and Starfleet adjacent. 

Janeway, breath at last somewhat caught, took a few steps back, towards the door. A thin strand of hair, untucked from her ordinarily rigorously tamed bob, swayed before her eyes, the only evidence of anything untoward. She tucked it back into place with trembling fingers, and disappeared through the doors. 

Not the only evidence, Seven considered, glancing down at her fingers, still dimly slick. She ran her thumb over her forefinger, lifted it to her lips — it was almost enough to make her laugh, if indeed laughter could accomplish anything of note. But she knew what the captain would say to that: 

_Hush._


End file.
